


Troubled waters

by melian225



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adultery, Canon Compliant, Community: HPFT, F/M, Pregnancy, challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-08 02:55:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7740655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melian225/pseuds/melian225
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when an error of judgement turns into something life-changing?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A chance encounter

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a challenge on the HPFF forums some years ago. I pretty much only write canon so being given the Ron/Pansy pairing certainly was a challenge, but I think it turned out okay. It's been tidied up a bit from how it was originally posted but is in essence the same. Thanks for having a look and I hope you like it. Cheers!

**1 - A chance encounter**

 

 

“Bloody conferences,” Ron grumbled into his Firewhisky. “Why does she have to go to so many?”

“She’s acting Head of Department,” Harry said patiently, having to shout to be heard above the din of the front bar. “It’s part of her job. You know that.”

“But she’s always away,” Ron sulked. “And I miss having her around. It’s not the same, you know?”

Harry nodded sympathetically. Ron was like this a lot when Hermione had to travel, though with her role at the Ministry it was certainly part of her job description. There wasn’t much he could really do for his friend except offer a sympathetic ear and top up his drink when necessary.

“You’re lucky your mum’s got the kids tonight,” was what he said. “One less thing to think about.”

Ron cracked a smile. “Now there’s a point. With Hugo teething it’d be a nightmare on my own. At least this way Mum’ll cop the worst of it.”

“What time are you due back?”

Ron looked at his watch. “Half an hour ago, I think. No, wait, I misread it. Damn scratches on this thing. Hour and a half from now.”

Harry nodded. “I might have to leave you before then, Gin’s expecting me home a bit earlier than that,” he said. “But I’ll make sure you’re well lubricated, okay?”

Ron grinned. “You’re a top friend, have I ever told you that?”

Harry smiled too. “Once or twice.”

“Well would you look at that,” Ron said suddenly, changing the subject. “Could she make it any more obvious that she’s on the prowl?” His eyes were fixed on a woman at the bar, wearing a dress so skimpy it resembled a wide belt more than anything else. Five-inch stilettos and lace stockings completed the look, which was so over-the-top that Ron’s eyes couldn’t be drawn from her. “Decent body, but,” he went on. “I mean, she can afford to show it off.”

Harry, too, was watching the spectacle of the woman flaunting herself at all males within a five-metre vicinity. “Hang on,” he said as he got a good look at her face in the orange lamplight, “isn’t that … isn’t that Pansy Parkinson?”

Ron’s mouth dropped open and he forced his eyes from the woman to stare at Harry. “You think?”

“I do think,” Harry said. “Take another look at her.”

Ron, quite frankly, didn’t mind being told to stare at this woman, even if it WAS Pansy Parkinson. If it was, after all, she’d undergone quite a makeover since school. Or maybe she’d just grown into herself. Either way, it wasn’t a bad view.

The woman turned her face towards them and Ron gasped. The pug nose, the slightly upturned mouth – it certainly was Pansy. It was astonishing, though, that someone they had hated so much at school, someone who had been so plain and so ridiculous in her infatuation with Malfoy, could have turned out looking like this. She oozed confidence and sexuality.

“You gotta admit, she turned out alright,” Ron muttered.

Harry was nodding. “Who’d have thought it?” he said. “Slutty, yes, but worth looking at.”

“She was always slutty, though,” Ron said. “At least, that was the impression I got from her. Throwing herself under Malfoy at every opportunity.”

Harry pondered this. “Never really considered it. But thinking about it, you’re probably right. She never was the demure type, was she?”

Pansy had spotted them by now and, very likely influenced by the drinks that several of the men at the bar had been buying her, was coming towards them, a seductive smile on her face. “Well, if it isn’t my old school chums,” she drawled, her voice low and husky. Ron and Harry exchanged a look – “chums” was certainly not a word they would have used for their relationship with Pansy Parkinson at school. However, it seemed that she was playing a role and they were expected to play along.

“Pansy Parkinson.” Harry had decided to go along with whatever game she was playing. After all, it wasn’t like they had anything to lose here. Neither of them would be taking the bait so if she wanted to pretend they’d been friendly, he could go with that.

“The famous Harry Potter and Ron Weasley,” she smirked, still in the same husky voice. Of course, thought Harry, that was it. The defeat of Voldemort had happened so many years ago now that he never really thought about it, but his fame, and that of Ron and Hermione, was still very much on the public radar. Pansy, too, was clearly having trouble with the absence of the third member of their trio. “But where’s dear Hermione?” she asked, looking around. “I don’t see her here.”

“In Paris,” Ron blurted out, unable to take his eyes from Pansy’s. “Ministry conference.”

“Of course,” Pansy said. “She is very busy these days, isn’t she? But why are you two here in this old pub? Surely you have galas to attend and museums to open?”

She was playing with them now, that was obvious, but they were both drunk enough not to care. It was a bit of banter, that was all, and it wasn’t bad banter – or at least it wasn’t so bad that they were cringing at every word, which did happen occasionally.

Actually, Pansy was surprisingly good company, even though both Ron and Harry made it clear that, as happily married men, they weren’t about to succumb to her charms, no matter how much she flashed her (rather impressive) cleavage at them. Half an hour later they were chatting away happily, swapping stories of school and their different versions of them, laughing at misinterpretations and different impressions. Both Ron and Harry were quite surprised by how much they were enjoying themselves, and it was with regret that Harry finally looked at his watch and announced he had to leave.

“Sorry, you two,” he said with real feeling. “But Gin’s going to kill me if I’m late home again – and even if Voldemort couldn’t pull that off, I reckon she could.”

“Hear hear,” Ron said with equal earnestness. “Hermione’s the same. Good thing she’s in France.”

“Well it’s been lovely catching up, famous boy,” Pansy said, a seductive smile on her face. “Maybe we can do it again sometime.”

“Maybe we can,” Harry said, surprising himself by actually meaning it. “Well, I’m off. Later, you lot.”

Pansy watched him leave then turned to Ron. “Looks like it’s just you and me, famous boy.” She was calling them both that, using their notoriety as an ironic term of endearment. “Up for another drink?”

Ron looked at his empty glass. “Why not,” he said with a grin, fishing in his pockets for some spare Galleons. She put her hand over his.

“My shout,” she smiled, her red lips and dark hair contrasting with her pale skin. “You wait here, I’ll be right back.”

Ron was just conscious enough to realise that this was probably an unusual thing for her, being the one to pay for the drinks. Merlin only knew there were a dozen men in that pub who would have loved to have been buying them for her, but she’d been concentrating on him and Harry. What purpose she had, he had no idea, but he couldn’t deny he was taking a lot of pleasure in her company, and it was with eager eyes that he watched her sashay her way through the crowds from the bar to his table.

“To old friends,” she said, raising her glass and giving him his. “Or new ones that you’ve just known forever.”

“To old friends,” Ron repeated, enjoying this immensely. She had a little bit of lipstick on her front tooth that he was finding remarkably endearing, and he had to admit that the way she tried to surreptitiously push herself back into that excuse for a top she was wearing was kind of cute and had certainly got his attention. Maybe, he thought to himself, this Pansy Parkinson wasn’t so bad after all.


	2. Chapter 2 – The second mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron responds to a half-expected owl.

**2 - The second mistake**

 

Ron got the owl a week or so later. _Free for a drink after work, famous boy?_ it read. _I’d love to catch up_. He didn’t even need to see the signature – extravagant and written in what looked like lipstick – to know who it was from, and wondered why he felt guilty. It wasn’t like he and Pansy had actually _done_ anything, just talked and drank. So why didn’t he want Hermione to know about it?

Regardless, he couldn’t deny that he wanted to see her again. He didn’t really know why but she had intrigued him, and any excuse to find out more about her or spend more time with her was sounding pretty good. In any case, he surprised himself with the speed with which he sent an inter-departmental memo upstairs to Hermione, telling her that he had a lead on a case and was going to work late. It was kind of true – he did have a lead and would probably work a little late anyway – but he was still lying.

Lying to Hermione. He had to admit it felt weird. However, it was also strangely liberating – if she took the bait. He’d never been able to lie to her successfully before and if he could manage it now it would be an achievement.

“What’s up, Ron?” Harry’s voice cut into his thoughts.

“It’s the Mortlake case,” Ron said, picking up a bit of parchment from his desk. “We’ve had a breakthrough – bloke called Albert Bungs reckons he’s spotted him in Devon. Splinched, no less. I was about to go over there and check it out.” This was at least true, and it was an important lead on a case that had mystified them for months.

“Good work,” Harry said with a grin. “Take Gumboil or Toke or someone with you, though, just in case. Could be a set-up.”

“Already got that organised,” Ron said. “Nellie Toke’s getting her stuff ready as we speak. We could be gone a while.”

“No worries. Good luck, mate. And take care. I don’t want to have to tell Hermione that something’s happened to you.”

Ron shuddered. “Nor me. We’ll be fine.” And, gathering up his wand, travel cloak and a few accessories, he wandered through the office to find Nellie Toke, the junior Auror, and get her organised for Disapparition.

His mind wasn’t really on the job, though, and more than once young Nellie had to remind him what they were doing. Finally he convinced her that he had his head in the right place and sent her back to London, saying that he had everything under control. And he had. Mortlake, who they had been tracking for months, had Splinched himself in Devon and had been captured and sent to St Mungo’s. Ron’s job, which was potentially too gruesome for Toke, was to try to find the missing leg – rumoured to be nearby rather than at the place of origin - so it could be re-attached.

Before long, however, he was hurrying back to London and to the assigned rendezvous point with Pansy. The leg could wait, he reasoned. This was something that for whatever reason he really wanted to do.

“Hey there, famous boy,” Pansy said, that seductive smile on her face. She wasn’t wearing much more than she had been the previous week in the pub and Ron had no intention of not enjoying the view. No bra, that was clear, and quite possibly no pants either, though he wouldn’t be finding that one out tonight. No, he was a happily married man, just meeting an old school friend for a drink.

 _School friend. Ha!_ He wondered why he was thinking of Pansy like that. Shaking his head, he convinced himself it didn’t matter.

“How are you, Pansy?” he asked, leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek. He did that with everyone, it wasn’t just her – as he’d got older he’d just found himself doing it. Hermione was fine with it, it was no big deal. It was just a greeting.

Pansy, however, didn’t see it like that. Moving her face deftly, she caught his lips with hers and started kissing him with such passion that he was nearly knocked over. What was worse was he was reciprocating. _So much for being a happily married man_ , he thought. A minute later they’d left the pub and found a spot in an alley nearby, both their hands busy with the other’s clothing. It was frenzied and hungry and oh-so-satisfying.

“Did you want to do it here,” Pansy whispered, her halter-neck undone and her voluptuous breasts on display for him, “or did you want to go back to my place? I’m just around the corner.”

Ron didn’t even stop to think and pulled his mouth away from her for just long enough to respond. “Why not both?”

She smiled into his kiss. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.” She undid his trousers with practiced movements and he hitched up her dress, pushing her back against the wall. He’d been right: no pants. He was glad about that – not only did it mean that this wasn’t a rash decision that she’d regret later, but it made things so much easier.

Afterwards, her halter-neck tied up again and his trousers re-fastened, they scurried, separately, to the door to a flat above a shop across the road. Ron even cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself so he wouldn’t be recognised. He knew what he was doing was wrong but for some reason he couldn’t help himself. There was just something about her that he couldn’t stay away from.

He made his way upstairs to find her waiting for him, still dressed but with her halter-neck positioned in such a way that there was virtually nothing left to the imagination. Instinctively he went to her again, holding her, kissing her with more ferocity than he’d realised he possessed, letting her walk him backwards to what he assumed was the bedroom. Eventually she put both hands to his chest and pushed him backwards so that he landed on her bed, red satin sheets and all. Yes, this was Pansy’s room, undeniably.

This time they went more slowly, taking their time, enjoying each other’s bodies. Pansy was very good at this, he realised, probably from more practice than he wanted to know about. He appreciated it, though. He liked to be able to really let loose sometimes, and to be frank his sex life with Hermione was a little more regulated than that. There were times that she liked to be intimate and times that she didn’t, and they were so predictable that he could mark them on the calendar. This, though, this was absolute freedom. He knew instinctively that could do whatever he liked with Pansy and she’d be happy to go along with it. The very thought was liberating.

“I knew you’d meet me tonight,” she whispered in that husky voice when they had finished yet again. “We had that spark, didn’t we?”

“We did,” Ron said. “Dunno why, though.”

Pansy feigned shock. “You mean that these _weren’t_ enough to get your attention?” she asked, gesturing to her breasts. “I showed you enough of them.”

"It’s never enough,” he said, paying them some more attention. “They’re magnificent.” _And twice the size of what I’m used to_ , he added to himself. It was nice to have some variety in life. Finally, though, he asked what he’d meant to ask the previous week but had never got around to. It didn’t really matter, but he was curious. “So what happened with you and Malfoy? Didn’t work out?”

Pansy scoffed. “Draco? Class A nutter, really. I realised that not long after we left school. Head so far up his own arse that he could see what he’d had for lunch.” She shook her head disparagingly. “Nah, he ended up with Daphne Greengrass’ kid sister Astoria. Last I heard they had a kid. Good for him – I certainly wouldn’t have bred with him.”

“Why not?” Ron asked, genuinely surprised. “Kids are great.”

“I’m sure they are,” Pansy said, “but not his. Can you imagine?”

Ron grinned. “Yeah, fair point. Someone like Malfoy shouldn’t have been allowed to breed.” He was still playing with her breast and she put her hand on his.

“If you’re going to keep doing that,” she said, changing the subject, “we’re going to have to go again. You’re not allowed to lead me on like that.”

Ron faked a groan. “Again? Do I have to?”

Pansy grinned and rolled over to have him on top of her, that seductive smile back on her face. “Yes, famous boy. I think you do.”


	3. Repercussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guilt isn't the only thing Ron has to deal with.

**Chapter 3 – Repercussions**

The guilt started almost as soon as he left her flat. Apparating back to Devon to finally recover the missing leg, Ron was suddenly hit with the enormity of what he had done. _Merlin’s beard_ , he thought. _I cheated on Hermione. I cheated. I thought I’d NEVER do that._ He felt sick, like he was going to puke, and had to sit down to stop himself from falling over. He, Ron Weasley, had been unfaithful to his wife.

_So much for Till death do us part_ , he thought ruefully. _Till Pansy do us part, more like._

He felt sick to his stomach. He would never leave Hermione for Pansy. Yes, she was a great shag, but Hermione was a partner. A life partner. Not only that, but she was the mother of his children. He’d been in love with her since he was thirteen years old and he wasn’t going to stop now.

_That’s it. I’ll break it off with Pansy – if in fact we’re together. Maybe it was just a one-night stand. Yes, that’s it. A one-night stand. I’ll never see her again._

It was easy to convince himself of that. He should never have seen her in the first place. If he hadn’t gone to the pub with Harry that night this whole thing would never have happened.

“ _Accio_ Mortlake’s leg,” he said dully, still sitting on the ground leaning against a tree. It was worth a shot – he had no idea where the leg might be and it might work. _Yeah, right, cos all your decisions today have been flawless,_ he reprimanded himself. Writhing in self-disgust, he almost didn’t see the severed limb coming through the bushes towards him.

“Bloody hell, that worked?” he asked aloud, incredulous that something so obvious had eluded so many people that afternoon during the search. Well, at least that was one thing he didn’t have to worry about.

Unlike the state of his marriage.

Still feeling sick and consumed with self-loathing, he Apparated back to London and deposited the missing leg at St Mungo’s. While Mortlake could have grown a new one overnight using Skele-grow and other potions, the Healers always preferred to re-attach the original one as new limbs could have characteristics that the person wasn’t familiar with. More than one person who’d re-grown arms had discovered that they were now left-handed, for example. Ron didn’t know what legs did but Mortlake was definitely more likely to be co-operative under questioning if he had all his limbs intact.

After the hospital, he dropped back into the office to get the paperwork done. He could have done it the next day but he was dreading going home – even seeing Hermione might trigger something and he really didn’t want her to know what he had done. It was a blip, never going to happen again, and it would only hurt her, and he didn’t want to do that. He hated hurting Hermione.

Finally, though, he could put it off no longer. He’d had more than one anxious message from home wanting to make sure he was okay, and he had to admit it wasn’t like him to be working so late. So with more than a tinge of regret he found his way to the Floos and headed back home, steeling himself for the interrogation he was sure he was about the receive.

When he walked through the front door, though, Hermione took one look at him and rushed over, looking concerned. “Ron, what’s wrong? Was it Mortlake’s leg? How badly damaged was it?”

Ron grasped at the excuse she was giving him. He’d always been a little queasy about things like that, something Hermione knew well, and it would certainly have been a valid reason for him to be a little out of sorts.

“Are you okay, Daddy?” came a small voice from the corner, and Ron looked down to see his daughter, Rose, coming towards him too.

“I’m fine, honey,” he told her, dropping to his knees so he could give her a comforting hug. “Daddy just had a bad day at work, that’s all.”

“Do you need your magic beans?” she asked.

Ron smiled. He often grabbed a handful of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans as a pick-me-up when he was feeling down and had explained it to Rose as his magic beans that made him feel better. It had worked – Rose saw them as Daddy’s magic beans and never asked for one herself. “They’re Daddy’s,” she’d say if anyone offered her one. “He needs them.” It was incredibly endearing.

The guilt was still there, though, and it got worse as Hermione fussed over him, making sure he was comfortable and had nothing that might give him additional stress. He normally appreciated her efforts but this time he just felt horrible. If she knew what he’d really been doing, why he was really so quiet and withdrawn, she would have left him on the spot. And life without Hermione just didn’t bear thinking about.

****

The trouble was, Pansy didn’t just go away. And Ron couldn’t always stay away. He tried, certainly, and resisted a lot of her entreaties, but sometimes, when she got him at a low point or when he just needed some escapism, he agreed. It didn’t help that she was such a great shag, either – just another reason it was so hard to say no.

Pansy liked the encounters as well. She knew why Ron was so hesitant – he was scared of Hermione Granger, and if she was honest with herself she was too – but there was just so much fire between them that she couldn’t ignore it. And so she kept asking, and maybe once a month or so he would say yes. It was good for him, too, she could tell from his demeanour before and after the event. She was able to relax him at times when nothing else worked. Looking at it from one point of view, she reasoned with herself, she was doing him a favour, and extending that she was doing the Auror’s office a favour. No one wanted an Auror who hadn’t had a break from work in weeks, and his home life, with a three year old and a seventeen month old, wasn’t exactly stress-free. She was able to de-stress him and she was proud of that.

About six months after their initial encounter, though, she realised that something was different. With her, not with him. Her breasts were bursting out of her tops much more than they’d used to, and they were a lot more tender than usual as well. In addition, she had a nasty metallic taste in the back of her mouth, and she’d been getting tired very easily. She was sleeping for hours longer than she used to, and she was lethargic when she was awake. It put a bit of a strain on her professional life where her talents for interior design were becoming more and more sought-after, but she feigned exhaustion and people would generally forgive her. This gave her no guilt. If nothing else, she knew she’d be able to see Ron sometime soon. That always made her feel better.

A week or two later, though, she realised that she was late. Normally she would insist people use protective charms to prevent this very thing. Ron, however … with Ron she had never bothered. She didn’t even know why, except that she preferred it that way, and quite possibly he had all sorts of restrictions on him at home. Pansy didn’t think Hermione Granger would skimp on contraception.

_Bugger._ That was putting it mildly. Pansy didn’t want children, didn’t want a family. Her life wasn’t that sort of life, and she enjoyed her freedom.

Part of her, though, was reconsidering that. Perhaps because it was Ron’s … there was something about Ron that she couldn’t let go of. She might even love him, in as much as she could love anyone. She certainly lived for their brief hours together, which were undoubtedly the highlight of each month.

_So I’m carrying yet another Weasley._ She smiled grimly. Everyone knew how prolific the Weasley clan were at breeding – not that the current generation had a lot of kids each, but each of the seven (she thought) had at least two, which made for a bucket-load of cousins. Almost all Weasleys, except for Harry Potter’s kids, and if they weren’t the great Potter’s then they’d be considered Weasleys as well. That family had had their own population boom since the war finished; there was no doubting their fertility.

_And now I’m one of them._ It was a strange feeling. She now understood the waves of nausea she’d been experiencing and why she’d been so tired. She knew, though, that she should get checked out professionally.  Go to St Mungo’s and have it confirmed.  Then she’d try to work out how she could break the news to Ron.

 


	4. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron has a nasty - but life-changing - surprise

**Chapter 4 – Decisions**

Ron hurried through the hospital, looking for his latest contact. He hated hospitals, having spent much more time in them as a kid than he’d wanted to, watching various family members recover from the impact of the Second Wizarding War. Since the fall of Voldemort he’d come here as infrequently as possible, aside of course from when his kids were born, but sometimes his job made it absolutely necessary. Like now, he thought. His source had been injured while carrying out a task for Ron, and quite frankly some of what he was seeing in Spell Damage was enough to give him nightmares. He dreaded to think what his contact looked like now.

Finally he found him. “You look awful,” he said as he approached the bed, taking in the bruising on the face, paralysed limbs and marks of torture that he would prefer he didn’t recognise.

Theodore Nott glared at him. “Sure you should be here?” he asked. “You’re blowing my cover.”

That surprised him. “Thought it was blown already. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

Nott relaxed, as much as his injuries would let him. “Yeah, they worked it out,” he said glumly. “I was lucky to escape with my life, really. Don’t think they had any idea how long I’d been passing info to you lot.”

“You were always very careful,” Ron said. “One of my best sources, to be honest. It’s a shame you got caught out.”

“One slip,” Nott muttered with frustration. “One bloody slip. After ten years.”

“Which in itself is remarkable. You’re in line for an Order of Merlin. Oh, and a spot in Witness Protection if you want to change your identity.”

Nott looked at him, clearly considering the proposal. “I’ll have a think about that. Talk it over with the wife. If she feels like she’s in danger, we’ll take it. If not, we might see if we can sit it out.”

Ron shrugged. “Up to you,” he said. “Seriously, mate, you were brilliant. For ten years you were brilliant. I’m only sorry that it had to end like this.”

Nott tried to shrug. “They’re a bunch of idiots anyway. I’m probably better off rid of them. Monosyllabic conversation and dumb ideas … honestly, I was surprised they could communicate in a way more sophisticated than grunts.”

“You always were bright, weren’t you,” Ron said. “Sorry, mate, but I can’t sympathise. I’m always the thick one.”

Nott grinned as best he could. “With a wife like yours, I’m not surprised. But you’re bloody good yourself. Assistant head of the Aurors, aren’t you?”

Ron looked at the ground modestly. “Only because my best mate is the head.”

“Rubbish,” Nott said. “If you weren’t good enough you wouldn’t have got the job. Believe me, Weasley, I know who’s got the goods and who doesn’t. You’ve got them.”

Ron’s ears went scarlet. “Thanks.” Even after all these years, even after they’d made a Chocolate Frog card of his achievements, he still couldn’t take compliments very well.

Once the meeting with Nott was over, Ron was keen to leave St Mungo’s as soon as he could. Honestly, the less time he spent in there, the happier he was. He could still remember his father and brother being close to death in there, and if he was honest with himself he still got spooked by the condition of Neville’s parents. How Neville had managed to keep it all together with his mum and dad in that state for just about his whole life was beyond Ron, and he was eternally grateful that he didn’t have that to deal with.

Really, all he did have to worry about was that occasional dalliance with Pansy. But he had that under control, he was going to end it next time he saw her. He couldn’t keep doing it, no matter how good the sex was. Thinking about what it would do to Hermione if she ever found out was reason enough for that.

“Ron? Is that you?”

He stopped involuntarily at Pansy’s voice. Had he really heard it or was his imagination playing tricks on him? A moment later, though, he realised it was really happening, because Pansy herself was coming towards him, looking nervously around as though she was worried Hermione might be nearby.

“Are you alone?” she asked in that husky voice that would always turn him on.

“Uh, yeah, but I don’t think …” He was cut off by her hurried movements.

“In here,” she said, finding a linen cupboard nearby that had enough room for a couple of people to stand comfortably. “I want this to be private.”

Ron automatically cast _Muffliato_ on the door and looked at her, perplexed. “Pansy, I can’t just stop and talk to you like this. What if we get seen?”

“You need to know this,” she said. “I’ve just been checked out by the Healers here. We’ve got a – a situation.”

Ron looked weakly at her. “A situation? What are you talking about?”

She just looked at him. “I’m pregnant.”

Ron froze. Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t this. In fact, part of him had been expecting that she’d be wanting to use this linen cupboard as a venue for their, um, activities, and he was almost disappointed that she didn’t. This, however, was beyond anything he could have even considered.

_Why not, though?_ That voice in the back of his head asked the rational question. They’d never used protective charms, they’d never even discussed the possibility of conception. He knew he was fertile – Rose and Hugo proved that – so it was probably inevitable that this would happen eventually. What it meant, though, was another matter entirely.

He forced himself to look at her again. “You’re what?”

“Pregnant,” she repeated.

“Is it mine, though?” he asked. “Look at you, Pansy. It could be anyone’s.”

She shrank away from him a little. Really, he hadn’t been fair on her – while she dressed provocatively, she wasn’t really promiscuous, though he honestly did have no idea if he was the only one she was seeing. He would have liked to have been, but then again as a married man he couldn’t exactly insist on her keeping away from other men.

“Other people, I use every protective charm known to man,” she said coolly. “Goodness only knows what they might have. With you, though …” She left the sentence unfinished, but the implication was clear. The charms had a 99.99% success rate. It was almost impossible that this child belonged to one of her other conquests. Which, as far as he knew, only left … him.

“But are there others?” he asked, needing to be sure. “Like me, that is?”

Pansy shook her head. “Just you, Ron,” she said. “I’m sorry, but that’s what it is.”

He was really struggling to take it all in. “But … but … what will you do?” Meaning, will you keep it or not?

She shrugged. “If you’d asked me a week ago, I’d have said without question that I’d terminate. But now …” She looked up at him, her expression pained. “I don’t know if I can do that, Ron. It’s my baby.”

“Our baby,” Ron said. “If that’s the case, that is. Meaning I should get a say too.”

Pansy looked earnestly at him. “And, given the choice, would you really want to kill it?”

Ron faltered. He’d meant to say yes, of course, but he realised that he couldn’t do that. Children were precious and should never be taken for granted. He couldn’t terminate.

“No,” he said eventually, his voice weak. “No, I wouldn’t.”

Pansy nodded and took his hands in hers. “Sorry for springing it on you like this, but I thought you had to know.”

Ron sighed. Of course he did, but now he did know he couldn’t un-know. He would take this knowledge home with him that night, would have to hide it from Hermione and the kids. And when the baby was born, then what? Would he be expected to help financially? What about visitation? What about the birth certificate? Would he be listed, and would Hermione find out that way? It was all too much to take in.

“I need to think about this,” he muttered, opening the door to the linen cupboard and hurrying away, leaving her behind, probably just as confused as he was.  But her state of mind wasn’t top of his list of priorities at the moment, he knew that. He needed to work out how this was going to pan out, and start preparing for damage control.

Immediately.

 


	5. Recriminations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all comes out, and Ron is left to suffer the consequences.

**Chapter 5 – Recriminations**

“You did WHAT?!?!?!” Hermione’s face said it all. Horror, betrayal, disappointment, pain.

Ron looked at the ground. “I’m sorry.”

“You slept with another woman.” Hermione sounded like she couldn’t quite come to terms with it. “You broke our marriage vows. Why?”

“I don’t know.” It wasn’t anywhere near enough, he knew that, but he couldn’t really explain it. It had just happened, he’d lost control and it had all backfired. As he’d known it would, eventually.

Hermione sat down, her face in her hands and her shoulders shaking. “Are you going to tell me who?”

Ron mumbled the name. Somehow who the other woman was made it even worse.

“I didn’t hear you.”

He mumbled it again.

“Louder, Ron.” It was amazing how she could still sound like a schoolteacher when she wanted to. It was something that endeared her to him, showing him that, in essence, she hadn’t changed since they first started at Hogwarts all those years ago.

_Unlike me._

He felt terrible. If he could have avoided this confrontation altogether he would have, but there was no escaping it. Pansy was visibly pregnant with his child and it was bound to come out eventually, and he preferred that Hermione hear it from him than from anyone else. For some reason he’d thought she might take it better that way. He’d been wrong.

“Pansy Parkinson.” Finally he admitted it, said the name loud enough for her to hear it.

Hermione lifted her head and stared at him through her tears, disbelief on her face. “ _Pansy Parkinson????_ How could you even LOOK at Pansy Parkinson? Ron, you know how much I hated her at school. How could you DO that?”

“Look, it’s not like that, she’s different now,” he said, realising as he did so that defending his mistress’ character to his wife was probably not a wise move. “I know what she was like, Hermione. She was a right bitch. But she’s not now. I know that doesn’t make it easier, but …” He let his voice trail off, hoping that Hermione would be able to get past a schoolyard grudge.

“I don’t care if she’s the Queen of bloody England now,” Hermione hissed. “Pansy Parkinson. Ron, how _could_ you??”

Hermione never swore. Ron knew from this that she was hurting even more than she was letting on, that her whole world had been turned upside down. And it was all his fault.

“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry, Hermione. I love you.”

She glared at him, her face tearstreaked and pale. “Then why did you do it? How can you love me and still do something like that?”

“I don’t know,” he said again, knowing it still wasn’t enough. “It just happened, Hermione. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“Well, clearly not. Pansy bloody Parkinson. You can’t have been thinking at all.”

Ron looked at the floor again, not knowing what to say. Maybe if he didn’t say anything this might blow over …

_Yeah, right. Fat chance of that._

And he hadn’t even told her about the baby yet.

“I want you to leave.” Hermione’s voice was quiet but it carried anyway, probably because the room was so silent.

Ron looked up at her. “Leave?”

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “Go. Take your things and get the hell out of here. I don’t want to see you any more.”

He stared, not really taking it in. “Leave?”

“You heard me,” she said, her voice hard. “You obviously don’t really care about me or the kids, otherwise you’d never have done this. So there’s no reason for you to stay. Go. Go to her if you like, I don’t give a damn. Just get out.”

She obviously meant it, though Ron hoped more than anything that it might blow over by morning and she’d be willing to take him back. And how would she explain it to Rose and Hugo? His parents had them that night, which was one reason he’d chosen it to tell Hermione about his mistake, but they’d want to know where Daddy was when she went to get them the next day. What would she tell them? What would she tell his parents, for that matter?

He had to go. He knew that. Staying in the house with an angry Hermione wasn’t a recipe for making it through the night intact. He was already picturing the swarm of birds attacking him – she hadn’t used that spell on him since they were at school, but then again he hadn’t hurt her in that way since the war finished. Anything was possible now.

“I’ll go,” he said reluctantly, hoping once more that once she’d slept on it she’d see reason and be willing to talk to him again. But first he had to get the worst of it out of the way, and now seemed as good a time as any. “Oh, and one more thing about Pansy.” His voice was rough and he hated doing this to her, hurting her even more, but she had to know. Full disclosure was the only way to get through this now.

She looked up at him, her brown eyes narrow and reproachful. “What about _Pansy_?” she asked bitterly.

Ron walked to the door on the pretence of going to get some clothes, his back to his wife so he wouldn’t have to see her face when he told her this last bit of news. “She’s pregnant.”

****

“Ron, mate, what were you _thinking_?” Harry had pulled him into his office as soon as Monday morning came around, closing the door to give them some privacy.

“I wasn’t,” Ron muttered. “I know.”

“Look, I know she’s decent to look at, but honestly. Shagging her? Cheating on Hermione? Ron, I thought you were better than that.”

Ron looked up shamefacedly. “So did I. I don’t know what came over me, Harry, really I don’t. It just happened.”

Harry shook his head. “Things like this don’t just happen. You have to have been complicit in it somehow. Let’s face it, it’s not like you didn’t have a choice in the matter.”

“I just … I couldn’t help myself,” Ron said helplessly. “She was there and she wanted it and … well, I don’t know.” He looked at his friend. “Haven’t you ever been tempted?”

Harry snorted. “Of course I have,” he said. “I’m only human. But I know the difference between window shopping and actually trying out the goods, mate. You know the rules – look but don’t touch. I can do it, you can too.”

“I know.” Ron looked at the floor again. He seemed to be doing that a lot at the moment, like he didn’t deserve to see anything above knee-height. “I’m sorry.”

“I should hope so,” Harry said. “It’s not just Hermione you’ve hurt here, mate. Rose, Hugo, Gin, George, Percy, Charlie, Bill – and what about your mum and dad? They adore Hermione.” He shook his head. “Look, if you can fix this at all, you should be doing everything possible to do that. You’ve got – or you _had_ – a damn good life. Don’t go stuffing it up now.”

“Believe me, I will,” Ron said with feeling. All he wanted was to have his wife talking to him again, being able to hold her like he used to. So what if she could be predictable? She was his wife and he loved her.

Harry just nodded, looking through narrowed eyes at him. “So where are you staying at the moment?” he asked after a moment. “I assume she kicked you out.”

“Of course she did. I’ve got a room at the Leaky Cauldron for now. Don’t want to look for anything permanent, not at the moment anyway. Maybe she’ll still take me back.”

Harry nodded again. “You didn’t move in with Pansy?”

Ron shook his head, aghast. “Mate, if I did that, there’s no way in hell that Hermione would even think about reconciling. Besides, I don’t want to live with Pansy. She’s nice and all, but …”

“Nice enough to have your child,” Harry said wryly. “Yeah, I get it. But not for anything permanent.”

Ron made a face. “If I could take it back,” he began.

Harry cut him off. “Take what back? The baby? Or this whole damn affair?”

Ron sank into his chair. “Everything,” he said, fully aware of what it had all cost him. “Everything.”

 


	6. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six months later, Ron is getting his life back on track.

**Chapter 6 – Acceptance**

**Six months later**

 

“Merry Christmas!!” Ron called, opening the door to The Burrow and heaving an enormous sack full of presents behind him.

“Merry Christmas, dear,” Molly said, coming in from the kitchen to greet him. “Where are the others?”

“They’re coming,” Ron said. “Rosie forgot her favourite doll so they went back to get it, but they’ll all be here in a minute.”

“That’s good,” Molly said. “And how’s it all going at home?”

“We’re working through it,” Ron said, plonking himself down in an armchair and using his wand to direct the gifts from his oversized bag to underneath the Christmas tree. “Hermione found a counsellor who’s really helping us sort through a few things. I’m still in the spare room, but at least I’m home again.”

“Well I hope you learned your lesson. You wouldn’t like it if she did that to you.”

He shook his head fervently. “Definitely not. No, I’ve definitely learned my lesson, Mum. Thanks to you and Dad as well,” he went on. While his parents had been careful not to interfere, they had offered support when he was going through his darkest time. Not support for what he’d done, but support for him as a person. It had done him the world of good.

“Uncle Ron!” A high-pitched voice rang through the house and five-year-old James Potter soon appeared and flung himself on Ron’s lap. “You’re here!” he shouted joyfully, and Ron couldn’t help but smile back. Kids didn’t know when grown-ups had gone through a hard time, and it was hard not to be affected by James’ enthusiasm for the season. “So, where’s my present, Uncle Ron? What did you bring me?”

“Steady, steady,” Ron said, laughing. “Presents happen _after_ lunch, you know that. And no, I’m not going to tell you what you’re getting. That would spoil the surprise.”

James looked earnestly at him. “I won’t tell anyone you’ve told me, honest. I’ll pretend to be surprised and everything. _Please?!?!?!_ ”

“Nice try,” Ron said. “But no. And look, here’re your cousins.”

Hermione and the kids had indeed just shown up, Rose with her doll in her arms, and Hermione gave Ron the smallest of smiles, one that gave him hope that she was indeed in a good mood with him today and she might even be more receptive to the idea of truly re-starting their marriage. They were followed shortly by Albus and Lily, who appeared to have been playing hide and seek, and Harry, Ginny, Molly, Arthur, and Charlie.

“I brought dessert, too,” Hermione said to Molly, reaching into her bag and bringing out an unusually large food storer. “Is there room in the icebox?”

“Not really, dear,” Molly said with a grin, clearly trying to make sure that all remained as normal as possible, “but that’s okay. We’ll just put a Cooling Charm on it and it should be fine.”

Charlie was looking at the size of the container and the bag it came from. “Undetectable Extension Charm?”

Hermione blushed a little and nodded. “I got rather good at them in that year we spent out of school,” she said. “Very useful, I must admit.”

“You’ll have to teach me,” Charlie said. “I’ve never got the hang of them.”

Hermione looked surprised. “Really? But they’re easy. Here, let me show you …”

Al and Lily had managed to convince the rest of the kids to join in the Hide and Seek they’d been playing as a way of passing the time until lunch and, more importantly, the presents that would follow. Ginny made the most of the distractions to sit down on the arm of Ron’s chair.

“So, what’s happening with the baby?” she asked quietly.

Ron coloured. “It was a boy,” he said, equally quietly. “She called it Atlas, of all things. I didn’t get a say in that because I’ve opted out of fathering.”

“Atlas Parkinson?” Ginny stifled a giggle. “Well, I guess I’ve heard worse names. Did you hear what Malfoy’s kid is called? Scorpius. I mean, really, that poor child.”

“I’m to drop around Christmas and birthday, that sort of thing,” Ron said. “Kind of like an uncle who shows up occasionally. I don’t think he’ll be told who I really am.”

Ginny nodded. “It might be easier that way. But you’ll still get to see him grow up.”

“Yeah, kind of,” Ron said. “It’s not an ideal situation but it’s okay. And most importantly, Hermione’s okay with it. That was the sealer, really.”

“How’s that going?” Ginny asked. “You seem to be doing alright.”

Ron nodded. “It’s coming along. I think she’s starting to trust me again. Which is good, because I’m sure as hell never doing anything like that again.”

Ginny grinned. “That’s the spirit,” she said. “Well, I hope it works out for you. Both of you.”

Ron sighed heavily. “So do I, Gin,” he said with feeling. “So do I.”

****

Pansy sang her son to sleep and, finally, turned to her mother. “He’s happy now.”

“He’s a dear little thing,” her mother said. “But it’s Christmas. Where’s the father?”

Pansy blushed. “He’s coming over tomorrow. Busy today.” _With his own family._ But she didn’t say that, because her parents didn’t know who the father was. And Pansy intended to keep it that way.

“Hmmm.” Mrs Parkinson sniffed. “Too busy to spend his son’s first Christmas with him. Some father you’ve picked, love.”

“I’m happy,” Pansy said. “I’ve got Atlas. That’s all I need.”

“If you say so,” her mother said, and Pansy knew that it was only a matter of time before she started getting pressured into settling down again. Now she had the baby, her mother could see no reason for her not to get married and get a mortgage and everything else that came with the territory. And Pansy didn’t want that. She was happy with her life.

“So who is this man again?” Mrs Parkinson asked.

Pansy smiled. “Never you mind,” she said in a tone that made it clear that this was a question she would not be answering. “He’s a good man with good genes. And that’s all I need, isn’t it?”

Mrs Parkinson sighed. “If you say so, dear,” she said again. “If you say so. Now, since he’s asleep, are you going to help me with this lunch?”

Pansy grinned, planting a soft kiss on the sleeping baby. “Sure, Mum,” she said. “What do you need me to do?”

 


End file.
